


we were beautiful

by orphan_account



Category: Mortal Instruments Series - Cassandra Clare, Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-04
Updated: 2016-04-04
Packaged: 2018-05-31 03:33:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,025
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6453748
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It had all come together tonight. They had fought in perfect, perfect unison, Jace always exactly where Alec needed him to be, Alec always exactly where Jace needed <em>him</em> to be. They had both slipped into a wild uninterruptible series of perfect hits, each at his absolute fastest and strongest, and Alec had felt the fight become an art form. A dance, Alec and Jace the centerpieces, the demons the counterpoint, slain. All the more thrilling for its being a secret. They weren’t on a mission; it was just them and their recklessness, in a fresh new city with fresh new weapons just waiting to be broken in.</p>
            </blockquote>





	we were beautiful

The last vestiges of their adrenaline get them all the way to their shared room before they collapse, cut loose and exhausted, on top of the comforter.

Alec is facedown with his nose squashed against the fabric and for a moment it feels so good to get off his feet he can’t move. Then Jace starts to laugh. It’s catching, because it’s Jace, and because Alec can feel it through the mattress, and in a moment he’s doing it too. Alec pushes himself up onto his forearms as his shoulders shake.

“ _ Fuck _ yes,” Jace crows. “That –” he pushes Alec’s shoulder “– was amazing. Jesus! We are good!”

Alec looks over at Jace, then has to look away. Because of course Jace hasn’t  _ flopped _ , not like Alec – that would be too easy. He has rather  _ sprawled _ , effortless, looking as if he had just thrown himself down, just dropped out of the sky, on his side propped up by an elbow with his hair messy but  _ somehow _ in a hot way, even through fire and venom and blood. His face open and laughing, his forearm resting on his hip, and  _ looking _ at Alec like that with his grand golden gaze; Alec can’t hold it. “It was … pretty fucking great,” Alec agrees, slightly breathless.

“Pretty  _ fucking _ great! It was beautiful.  _ We! _ Were beautiful.” Jace makes an aggressive-thrilled sort of noise, but at half volume, so as not to disturb the others asleep in the next room. “I can’t believe you made me think you weren’t going to get up for a minute. But there you were, goddamn it!”

“It was a trick that worked, right?” Alec says. “And your kill, that was –” he was going to copy Jace’s use of  _ beautiful _ , but at the last second he changes it to “– good.”

It had all come together tonight. They had fought in perfect, perfect unison, Jace always exactly where Alec needed him to be, Alec always exactly where Jace needed  _ him _ to be. They had both slipped into a wild uninterruptible series of perfect hits, each at his absolute fastest and strongest, and Alec had felt the fight become an art form. A dance, Alec and Jace the centerpieces, the demons the counterpoint, slain. All the more thrilling for its being a secret. They weren’t on a mission; it was just them and their recklessness, in a fresh new city with fresh new weapons just waiting to be broken in.

Alec rolls over onto his back and scrubs his eyes. “Shh, shh,” he says, as much to calm his own laughter as Jace’s. “Oh. That was like a dream … the  _ balance _ of this thing is so good.”

“It feels like I’m holding air,” Jace agrees.

The weapons had been a gift from Alec’s aunt or whoever she was. A distant one; if she was a relation at all, maybe she’s just a friend of the family’s. Someone rich. Someone with a nice house, who could host them for the holidays and gift them with excessively well-balanced weaponry; no doubt someone slightly higher class than Alec’s parents so that building their bond with her will help their status. But if he steers clear of the adults, he can avoid the politics, and his parents seem perfectly fine with his keeping out of the way – and if nothing else, it’s nice to be somewhere new. Also, there has yet to manifest a suspiciously eligible girl about Alec’s own age, so all in all the first day of vacation has gone exceedingly well.

Alec lifts his Marked-up hand above his face and looks at it silhouetted against the light. A battle rune twines from his wrist under the base of his thumb and onto his palm, the one for speed. He stares at it, his focus slipping away until the outline of it goes doubled, realizing that his limbs suddenly feel leaden.

The weight on the bed changes as Jace pushes up and gets to his feet, his movements still quick and energetic. He’s saying something – he’s been saying something for some time, but Alec has been tuned out. “... surprisingly easy to find a target, though. What do the shadowhunters in this city even do? Clearly they need us. We’ll make their lives easier, so long as we’re here – you also want to do this again, Alec, of course. Tomorrow. Right?”

Alec blinks. “Right,” he says, after an instant’s delay, and Jace takes a second look at him.

“Oh shit, you look wiped,” he says. “Are you crashing already?”

“Ugh,” Alec says. He takes stock of the leaden feeling in his limbs and the fuzzy feeling in his head, and has to admit he is.

“Jeez, dude, what’s up with  _ your _ stamina?” Jace jokes. “Anyway it’s fine. Just take care of your Marks before you fall asleep, at least.”

Alec grimaces, but says, “Yeah, okay,” and pushes himself up. It’s not a good idea to leave non-permanent Marks on for too long. The world tilts a little when he rights himself – Alec always gets a little funny-headed as he comes down from an adrenaline rush – and as he reaches for his stele he’s caught in a yawn.

As with so many things about the two of them, their behavior after a fight is opposite. Alec crashes; Jace stays wired. Both of them have learned this about each other over the course of their many shared fights, but Alec always wonders at Jace’s sustained energy, and Jace never seems to understand why Alec doesn’t want to stay up and celebrate with him.

Jace is stripping his own Marks now, vibrancy and energy evident in the quickness of his hands, and Alec sluggishly goes through his own. He erases the one on his ankle, the one at his collar, and contorts to take care of the one on his lower back, the one that’s difficult to reach.

Jace has finished now, and as Alec lifts the hem of his shirt, Jace throws himself back down on the bed. Their eyes meet – Jace on his back, upside down, directed up toward the ceiling, Alec’s gaze caught in the middle of a furtive glance. (Glancing furtively is something he does habitually now, even when there’s a perfectly reasonable excuse to look at Jace and there’s no need for furtiveness at all.) Alec looks away first, back to his task, his brow furrowing as he concentrates on the Mark.

In another instant, the stele is whisked out of Alec’s hands. “Turn back around,” Jace instructs, sitting forward and yanking up the back of Alec’s shirt. “I’ll take care of it.”

Alec swallows and turns back around, folding his hands in his lap and bowing his head. Despite Jace’s general attitude of boisterousness, he touches Alec gently, with his fingertips, the press of the stele careful and precise. Alec closes his eyes and exhales.

It only takes a moment. “Got it,” Jace says.

Alec, focusing on the way Jace’s hands linger on his skin, doesn’t reply right away. He wishes it had taken longer. That’s how he knows he’s tired, because maybe if he’d been less so, he would have knocked Jace’s hand away when he first tried to help. Maybe. The truth is, Alec has never quite been able to wholly reject his attraction to Jace. Sometimes he even indulges himself, just barely – small moments like this, allowing himself to feel it, enjoy Jace’s attention.

And that’s it. That’s all he gets. Alec opens his eyes, says “Thanks,” and twists around, holding his hand out for his stele. Jace puts it in his palm. Alec quickly takes care of the final mark, the one on his hand, and sets the stele on the nightstand.

He takes off his shoes and swings his legs onto the bed, lying back. One bed for both of them. It can’t be helped. Someone had to share, and who better but the parabatai pair? At least it was large, plenty of space for both of them to spread out. And maybe Alec will be lucky enough to crash this fast every night, so fast he won’t have to think about sharing a bed with Jace.

“Well, if you’re going to sleep, I guess I should too,” Jace says doubtfully, watching Alec taking off his socks.

“You don’t have to,” Alec says. It’s a cool night, and he’ll be fine sleeping in his day clothes. The jeans are a bit uncomfortable, but no way is he stripping down to in boxers next to Jace. 

“I’ll turn off the light. Can’t leave it on while you’re trying to sleep, man,” Jace says.

Alec pulls the covers over himself. He stretches his arms over his head, getting comfortable, as Jace gets the light.

Fog doesn’t immediately engulf his mind. He’s still lucid for a few more minutes, watching through heavy-lidded eyes as the shadow of Jace moves softly around the room doing various unidentifiable tasks. Jace has always had a very quiet step. It’s Jace’s natural grace, so fluid always in his motions; thinking of it, Alec feels his attraction give a resigned, weary sort of surge.

As his eyes close, he lets himself relieve Jace’s touch on his back one more time. It’s difficult, to let himself think about it, especially with Jace’s proximity, but on the edge of sleep like this his reservations give out.

At some point, Jace’s weight settles into the bed next to him. Alec exhales, long and silent. He takes account of himself. He’s on his back, staring at the ceiling, well over on his side of the bed. He’s fine. It’s fine.

He still doesn’t go to sleep, but lingers for some time in that gray world of semi-consciousness, his thoughts disjointed. He stirs again when Jace gets out of bed, raising his head slightly to watch Jace pace for a few minutes, then enter the adjoining bathroom.

Jace’s absence allows Alec to let himself turn over onto his side. It’s Alec’s usual sleeping side, but he hadn’t wanted to face Jace. He makes sure not to shift any closer to the middle of the bed when he rolls, and keeps his arms close to his body.

By the time Jace returns, Alec can tell he’s finally on the way to real sleep. Jace climbs in, and Alec thinks Jace ends up a little closer than Alec’s idea of the width of the bed would dictate necessary – he must have miscalculated how much space he’d left Jace, and he blearily tries to shift backwards, but finds that he doesn’t have room for that. Jace also faces him. Alec can tell that much, with a brief, narrow glance, enough to make out Jace’s position but not his face.

It’s fine. Alec is too tired to move, too tired to even feel uncomfortable. It’s kind of nice. He can hear Jace’s breathing – almost feel it, actually – and he’s suddenly sensitive of the sheets, whisper-soft against his bare arms, and the coolness of the air on his face. One of his arms has gotten a bit away from him, between himself and Jace on the sheet, his hand curled loosely, and he can feel just the barest brush of a different kind of fabric against his knuckles. It’s warm. Jace’s shirt.

He doesn’t notice, Alec thinks, and doesn’t move. He closes his eyes.

He dreams of their fight, fast-paced and glorious. In the dream it’s easy, so easy, like breathing. Jace smiles at Alec, and then he feels Jace’s hand on his face.

Alec thinks that might be part of the dream, too. He doesn’t stir, just feels it, and contemplates. The touch is gentle. Nice. It probably is the dream; it wouldn’t be the first time he’s dreamed of something like this.

And very soon, Alec becomes absolutely sure of this, because he feels Jace’s mouth.

First on his forehead, between his eyes, then Jace’s thumb curves around his chin and feels for his lips. Finding them, he kisses Alec there too.

It’s very light, just a touch really, closed mouths. Alec wonders if Jace is holding his breath.

But since it’s clear to him now that he’s dreaming, and he’s heard that if you realize that you’re dreaming you can control the dream, as Jace pulls away Alec decides to give it a try.  _ Kiss me again _ .

It doesn’t work at first, and then it does – Jace exhales, and Alec can feel it on his face, and then it’s happening again, only just a bit more, more decided, with just an edge of … of franticness. Jace’s fingertips on his face are shaking a little bit. Not shaking. Hesitant. Like he’s holding himself back, by Herculean effort, like he wants to grab Alec, do more, but he won’t. Then Alec shifts just the tiniest bit and Jace’s touch vanishes.

It’s at that moment that Alec realizes he’s awake.

_ What? _

His eyes blink open but it doesn’t do much good – the room is completely dark.

He double-checks. Yes. He’s awake. His heart is suddenly pounding. Triple-check. This is what it’s like to be awake. No, he can’t possibly be asleep. He’s sure.

How long has he been awake?

“Jace?” Alec whispers.

It’s a long, long minute before Jace says, equally softly, “Yeah?”

There  _ is _ a bit of light, now that Alec’s eyes have adjusted, and that’s from the window, a faint blue-white from a streetlight outside. They’re lying close together, still, and facing each other, still, but Jace shows no sign of having moved.

Okay. Alec doubts it, he really doubts it. “That must have been a dream,” he whispers, half to himself. His heart is still pounding. He swallows, and breathes in shakily.

He’s beginning to convince himself to try for sleep again, but then Jace responds with the softest “yeah,” and Alec’s eyes fly open.

He stares at Jace, or tries to, but it’s impossible to make him out in the darkness. They are  _ very _ close. Jace’s head is half on Alec’s pillow. Conceivably …

“It was a … very vivid dream,” Alec whispers. He swallows again.

“Oh,” Jace says.

“Yeah,” Alec says. “So … so, aren’t you going to ask me what it was?”

Alec can hear Jace’s breath halt, stutter, and then he says – he says, “No.”

If he hadn’t said that, Alec would never have said what he says next. But he did. So Alec does. He says, “It was a good dream.”

Jace’s hand is on his shoulder. Clumsy. Sliding up his neck and lacing into the hair at the back of his head. Tugging him forward. So close. Their air mixing. “Alec.”

Alec can’t speak.

“Alec.”

That’s all he says.

Alec is coming apart, from the inside out. Jace touches him and he’s shaking.

Their mouths come together fumblingly, and then all goes from clumsy to white-hot in an instant. Jace kisses him like gasping, like needing, like taking. Like Alec or the moment or something, whatever’s making this possible, could disappear at any second, and Jace intends to seize whatever he can of it for himself before then.

It’s overwhelming, overloading. It’s like waves over Alec’s consciousness, eclipsing his senses, stealing his breath.

“Jace,” Alec moans, when he can. “Jace …”

Jace stops short half on top of Alec, their foreheads pressed together, their mouths a paper-thin sliver apart. “What,” he says. He’s breathing hard. “Stop?”

“No!” Alec says, snatching compulsively at the front of Jace’s shirt.

“Then … Alec,” Jace says, and dives for his mouth again.

“I …” Alec says, tries to say, as Jace occupies him. “I …”

Another sliver. Both of them are breathing too hard to speak for a moment. “You … you’re into me?” Alec mumbles, to the best of his ability. “You really are?”

“Jesus Christ,” Jace whispers. He lays his hand on the side of Alec’s face. “What do you  _ think _ ?”

“Shit,” Alec manages. “I can’t … I don’t believe …”

“You drive me crazy,” Jace says. “The way you  _ move _ . Tonight. It was.”

“But I …” Alec wants Jace differently than Jace wants Alec. That’s just how it  _ is _ . Any other way is impossible. “But  _ I’m _ into  _ you _ .”

“ _ Fuck _ ,” Jace says, emphatically, and kisses him again.

The crazed tempo has eased somewhat, and as Alec begins to pick up the shattered remains of his wits, the enormity of it hits him. He groans, and lifts off the bed, arching his back, yanking Jace towards himself. Jace responds by opening his mouth, and now everything is wet and slick and hot, exploratory and stroking and Alec gets overwhelmed all over again, but in a different way.

 

Here are the things Alec remembers from that night:

Jace’s hands are on his skin, all over, anywhere it’s exposed.

Alec suddenly remembers how he’d savored Jace’s touch for brief instants, and realizes that now he has all he wants, and he grabs Jace’s wrist and puts his hand up his shirt.

Jace begins to kiss his neck and Alec goes hot all over.

Both of them lose their shirts (Alec remembers this, but he doesn’t remember how).

Skin to skin, chest to chest, all over, it’s everything.

And more than that.

After Alec finishes, Jace reaches for the bedside lamp and turns it on. Alec squeezes his eyes shut and covers his face. Jace runs his hands all over Alec’s body, exposed in the light.

When Alec can finally open his eyes, he sees Jace staring at him, and the look in his eyes is a mixture of appreciation and hunger.

Alec gets Jace off with the light still on and it’s the best thing he’s ever seen.

They barely sleep the rest of the night. A lot of it is just lying there, holding each other. Alec  _ would _ sleep, and sometimes he does, but every time he edges back into consciousness he remembers all over again and it’s impossible to sleep after that.

Jace sleeps, and Alec brushes his fingers through his hair.

Jace wakes up, and things get more active again.

They talk sometimes, for long, long stretches, and sometimes they don’t talk at all.

Alec gets to sleep finally once more, right toward dawn. When it’s time to get up for the day, Jace kisses him awake.

**Author's Note:**

> haven't read the books since middle school. don't remember anything. don't care. steles now have an eraser setting like a fucking tablet pen, amazing.


End file.
